


Cigarettes & Violin

by oreob1tch (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anti-Social Sherlock, Broken John, Falling In Love, First Kisses, Hurt John, M/M, They both just need each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8643523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/oreob1tch
Summary: Sherlock hates people. He hates talking to them. He hates "making friends". He hates his brother, who also happened to be a human, for forcing him into being with people.And he really tries to hate John when they meet but he cannot.





	1. Chapter 1

"For fuck's sake Mycroft, get out!" Sherlock groans and tries to push his brother out of his appartment. "I don't want you here."

"You never do!" Mycroft rolls his eyes and waves at Mrs Hudson as they're passing by, Sherlock still pushing him towards the front door.

"Yet you're still coming back. It's incredible how stupid you are." Sherlock hisses. Once the front door is closed and Mycroft's out, behind them, Sherlock lets out a sigh. Mrs Hudson watches him with a concerned look on his face.

"Is everything alright?" She asks and Sherlock nods and without a word disappears upstairs. Then he falls face down on his couch and groans. He fucking hates this. He hates that he has to be with people. Why? What's the point? They don't like him and he doesn't like them, it's quite easy to understand. He has nothing to talk about eith ninety percent of people living on this goddamn planet. He's different. Also kind of weird but he likes being weird. He likes being alone.  
Why is this so hard to understand?

He's always been like this. No one wanted to be friends with Sherlock when he was a kid. And Sherlock himself didn't want to be friends with anybody. His parents were concerned at first then they just gave up, much to Sherlock's relief. And as time went by Sherlock got so used to being alone, that he literally hates being surrounded by people.

There are only few people he can stand. One of them being Mrs Hudson and the rest is at his work, meaning the boss of London police department and a girl working in hospital that is always really sweet to him. He just doesn't understand why.

He sits up and looks around. There's a mess everywhere. Newspapers, letters,papers, cigarettes.  
He grabs one and lights it up. Smoking helps him think. He closes his eyes and thinks. About nothing in particular, about everything at once.

He certainly needs a roomate. This flat is kind of big and kind of expensive for him alone. But how can he get a roomate when he can't stand other people. He's terrified of strangers.

~*~

"Oh Mike, hi, can I use your phone?" he expects Mike to put his phone on his open palm, and there is a phone placed in his hand but it's not Mike's. Sherlock looks up.  
Then on the phone and on the hand still holding it.  
"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asks, his deduction done in few seconds.

"Excuse me?" The man frowns and looks at Mike who shrugs. Sherlock rolls his eyes and starts to explain why did he ask.

"So? Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Wow..." the man breathes out. "You're weird."

"Wanna move in with me?" Sherlock asks right away and wants to slap himself for asking like that.

The man laughs. It's a beautiful sound, but not quite honest. The smile doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm John Watson."

"Sherlock Holmes." they shake hands. For the first time in forever, Sherlock doesn't mind being with a stranger. "I meant it. The offer."

"And I meant it when I said you're weird. But anyway... I do need a new place to stay at."

"I play violin." Sherlock spits out all of a sudden. John smiles again,still not honestly.

"Cool. As long as we don't talk much, I don't care."

Sherlock is sure he found the perfect roomate.


	2. Chapter 2

John has no fucking idea what he's doing.   
Why did he agree?  
Why is he here?  
What The hell is wrong with him?

He's been through enough to know that this is not a good idea. He'll grow to like that guy, they'll become friends and then he'll lose him. He will hurt him or he will get hurt. Broken even more.

Yet there he is. 221B, Holmes said.

There's still enough time. He can just leave. No one will even know he was-

"Mr Watson, hi." Holmes' deep voice rings in his ears. Shit. It's too late now.

"Holmes." he forces himself to smile. They're not on the first names basis yet and for an unknown reason,it makes John feel a bit better. Like they're still strangers. And as long as they stay strangers, nothing bad can happen. No. It always happens with his friends and beloved ones only. Not strangers.

The taller man unlocks the door and leads him upstairs. John's stomach clenches.

"So.. This is basically the living room." John can tell that Holmes is just as nervous as himself. It makes him relax a bit. Good.

"That's the kitchen. As you can probably tell yourself. Over there's my bedroom and bathroom. There's another bedroom Upstairs."

John nods. They walk around the apartment, John asks the basic questions and gets short, informative responses. Holmes looks at him. "Don't get this wrong, it's nothing personal. I just..don't like people. So... If you wanna talk, don't talk to me."

John actually smiles, in relief. They'll stay strangers to each other. That's good. That's actually great. No one will get hurt.  
***

Mrs Hudson seems way too happy when she's told that Mr Watson wants to live there. When Sherlock asks her about it, she shrugs. "I feel like you can finally have a good friend."

"It's not like that, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock smiles. Mrs Hudson loves to see him smile. It's not happening often so she's enjoying this.

"We won't be friends. We.. We don't wanna talk to each other. It's great actually."

Mrs Hudson shakes her head. "I'm telling you. You two will grow pretty close."

"Wanna bet?" Sherlock smirks and she laugh, loud and cheerful.

"Of course."  
***

That night, John has a problem falling asleep. The bed is comfortable but he just can't find the right spot. He gets up and goes downstairs to make himself some coffee.

He can hear Holmes' soothing voice and at first he thinks that the guy is talking to himself before it hits him. He's talking to someone over the phone.

"No Mycroft."

Mycroft? What kind of name is that? Okay maybe he is talking to his imaginary friend.

"You don't get it! It's not like that. The man is a complete stranger. It's better that way."

Great. It's great that both of them can agree on this.

"You know me. And you're talking to me just because you're my brother. You wouldn't come near me, if you were not."

John should feel bad about listening to his conversation but he doesn't care.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock whines. "We won't be friends. You know why? Because I'm me. I'm that weird, creepy guy no one liked in middle school. I'm that weird nerd in the back of the class that everyone called faggot in high school. I'm the one who's terrified of being with people because I'm actually scared of being judged any more. I hate people because they hate me."

And something inside John shatters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep the feedback coming! You're awesome!


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Sherlock makes himself a coffee and sits on the couch, staring into his laptop. John appears in the kitchen and smiles at him. 

"Good morning."

Sherlock looks up, wide eyed. "Uhm.. Good morning, Mr Watson."

John bites his lip and tightens his grip on the cup he's holding. He shouldn't do this. He should know better than that by now. But after what he heard at night. He can't. That's not who he is. 

"Call me John, please." he says, quiet, hoping Sherlock won't even hear him. Sherlock chokes on his coffee. This is very new to him. He looks at John, who stares into his cup.

"John?"

The said man looks up. Sherlock smiles. "Call me Sherlock then."

His heart skips a beat when he sees John's smile.

They both drink their coffees quietly. They don't talk. Just because they decided to call each other by their first names doesn't mean they're suddenly best friends. John is still trying to keep his distance. Trying to save himself and save Sherlock from him.

Sherlock is still overwhelmed. He thought that John doesn't want to be friends, not that they are just because they're on the first name basis. But it's the first step. And Sherlock is confused. Because he hates people and doesn't want any friends. Doesn't need any friends. On the other hand, he can't say he hates John, that would be a lie. 

The guy is very nice to him, from the beginning. He doesn't mock him or make fun of him. He did call him weird, but Sherlock himself knows that he really is weird.

But that's about it. They haven't really talked since they met and on one hand, it's a good thing because it gave John very few opportunities to hurt Sherlock. On the other hand, he had a chance to make fun of him, call him names... and he didn't. 

For a second, Sherlock lets himself hope. 

****

John sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. What the hell is he doing here? Why is he here, in this house, living with this man  whom he barely knows? Why is he so stupid, giving people chances to break him apart?

He should know better. He should leave, while he still can. 

He remembers. All of them. All those people who hurt him or who got hurt by him or because of him. But there's the one, the only one, who he will always remember. It's the most painful memory of them all, probably because it's still kind of fresh wound.

She was the most beautiful woman he's ever met. She was confident, smart, funny and interested in John. Sometimes, she was a little mean, but John loved that about her. He loved everything about her and she loved him back. They were happy for  most of the time.

And then, they were told. She was crying for several days, she refused to believe that she was dying. And John couldn't believe it either. She was so young, so full of life, so not sick. 

She refused all the treatment. And he was dying along with her. Inside. Every day was painful for her and just as painful for him.

"Leave." she said, one day. The sun was shining and it was a really beautiful day and he wanted to spend it with her. He wanted to spend every single day with her.

"What? No! I'm not going to leave you, I told you."

She smiled at him, that beautiful smile he'd fallen in love few years prior. "But today's such a pretty day. Go out. Have fun. Buy me some flowers, that would make me feel better."

And he did. He was so stupid that he did leave and bought her flowers. And then, when he came back, he found her.

She didn't want him to see her die, so she killed herself while he was gone.

 

how could he get over her? She was the love of his life.

On the other hand, would she want this for him? Maybe he should move on. He won't forget, no. But a new friend might help.


	4. Chapter 4

"Who's Mary?" Sherlock asks few days later, after John wakes up from his nap. He stays on the couch, eyes closed.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh we're no... am I not supposed to ask?" Sherlock stutters and John smiles. For the past few days they've been talking a lot. 'A lot' for their standarts. And the're getting along just fine. Much to John's surprise really. Sherlock said that people hate him. 

John doesn't. He really, really doesn't.

Sherlock is curious and wants to know basically everything about John. Who's not entirely sure if he wants to - if he's ready - to share so much about his life.

On the other hand, Sherlock does not talk a lot about his own life. When John asks, sometimes he just changes the topic, sometimes he says something rude to upset John so that he doesn't ask anymore.

It's not like he wants to hurt John. That is actually the last thing he wants. He's just protecting himself. John knows that. But it's unfair because he knows almost everything already, either from using his mind blowing deduction skills or from John told him himself.

And then there's John who knows very little about the man he lives with.

"No, no it's okay, I suppose." he shrugs and Sherlock tilts his head to the side.

"And you're sure you want to tell me? Because you keep clenching your fist and you're biting your lip so you're obviously nervous and-"

John coughs and Sherlock stops talking. "Sorry." he mutters and John shakes his head and yawns, sitting in the armchair where Sherlock usually sits. The younger man frowns and gets up from the chair by the kitchen table and walks into the living room, sitting in John's armchair. John smiles at him and starts talking: "I'm going to tell you about Mary and you're going to be as quiet as you can be. After I'm finished, you will tell me your deductions or whatever but don't interrupt me, got it?"

Sherlock nods and stares at John. He keeps staring as John shares one of his worst memories with Sherlock. He stares at him, as John starts swallowing back tears and he's still staring, completely silent, as one single tear drop rolls down John's cheek. He doesn't really think, his brain is occupied by understanding John's story, he gets up and wipes the tear away. John freezes and so does Sherlock.

Neither of them is used to this kind of contact with each other. Sherlock says nothing as he promised he'd be quiet and John shakes his head, smiling softly. "Good timing, I guess. I just finished."

"So I can talk now?" Sherlock asks and John's smile widens a bit and he nods. Actually he is curious about what Sherlock thinks about this. About him. About Mary.

"I can't imagine the pain you're going through." Sherlock mutters. "I'm not good at emotions. I'm not good at being a normal emotional human being either. But I understand you loved her deeply."

John nods. 

"But something changed." He pauses for a while like he's not sure if he should to talk about this. " _You_ changed."

"I changed?" John asks, confused. "I didn't.. I mean I did, her death changed me, but.."

"That's not what I mean." Sherlock shakes his head and starts pacing around the living room. "You've been this distant for years. Then she came into your life and only around her you could be happy again, am I right? But when she died, the pain and emptiness was there again. You said it yourself.  _Again._ You've been hurt before. Many many times."

He turns around to look at the wall. "That's why you refused to talk to me at first. I thought we're just similiar. That you don't like people. But no. No John, you do like people and people like you and you were talking about Mary and in end you said that it's time to let go, you're moving on, you  _changed._ "

John's not even aware of the fact that he said that it was the time to let go. Did he really? Is he ready to let go? Move on? Try it once more?

He looks at Sherlock who turns to look at him back. "You... did I change you?"

John says nothing. Sherlock bites his lip. "Is it bad that you changed after you moved in here? Is it my fault?"

"You know that.. that if it's you who's changing me... you know that you're actually helping me, right?"

Sherlock stares. John gets up and steps closer to Sherlock who doesn't move. John takes the last step and he's standing in front of Sherlock, an inch keeping them apart. Without thinking about it too much, John pulls Sherlock into a hug.

"I need you to help me, Sherlock. I need you." He whispers.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Mycroft groans in annoyance. "Stop it. Both of you. You're disgusting."

John looks up, a small smile playing on his lips. "What is?"  
He chuckles when the older Holmes rolls his eyes. He feels good, for the first time in literally forever.

"You two. And your..love." Mycroft spits out and Sherlock laughs, patting his older brother on the head.

"Jealous?"

He doesn't say anything about love though, doesn't deny anything and John's heart swells with unfamiliar feeling.

"I'm not jealous. I'm happy for you. Actually, no. I'm happy for myself. My brother is not a complete garbage."

"Hey!" John frowns. "Who gave you the right to call him that?"

Sherlock smiles widely at him and Mycroft snorts. "Cute. You really are in love."

"And you're not invited to the wedding. Now, get out of here. You're boring." Sherlock motions for him to leave. Mycroft grabs his umbrella and smirks.

"Use protection."

"Jesus Christ, get out!" Sherlock groans and pushes him out of the room, his whole face red to the very tip of his ears. John can't help but laugh. He's staring at Sherlock, his eyes filled with adoration. The last few days helped him a lot and it's all thanks to Sherlock. He tried his best ti make John feel like home. To make him forget the horrors he's been through.

And while solving cases of murders seems to be ...well weird, it really did help John. Once again, he had something to focus on, something that occupied his mind.

But it's not just their current case that is on John's mind. He can't stop thinking about certain awkward man that he is sharing flat with. Sherlock really is not used to company and often, he's talking to himself even though John is right beside him and he could just ask him.

There are also certain situations when Sherlock really wants to help but has no idea how.   
John still has nightmares and often, he wakes up drenched in sweat, screaming. What that happens, Sherlock rushes in but doesn't know what to do. He usually sits beside John and holds him close to his chest. He thinks it doesn't help and John never told him otherwise, but it does. Sherlock's warmth and the sound of his heart beating is enough to make John calm. And Sherlock always stays until he's sure John's alright and can go back to sleep.

For someone with zero experience with human interaction, Sherlock surely is good when it comes to helping John.

"I'm sorry for my brother. He is.. Well...an idiot." Sherlock sighs, sitting down on his armchair.

"No, it's okay. He's quite alright. A little bit weird but that runs in the family I guess." John smirks and Sherlock looks at him, frowning.

"Hey."

"Don't hey me, it's true. You're not able to communicate with people. Mrs Hudson, Molly and I are the only exeptions."

"You forgot to mention Gale." Sherlock says, putting a cigarette inbetween his lips.

"Gale?"

"Lestrade." Sherlock explains. John chuckles.

"You mean Greg."

"That's what I said." Sherlock shrugs and John sighs, smiling. This man, this weirdo, is really something special.

**Author's Note:**

> Please please, leave a comment to tell me what you think.  
> It means so much.


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